


Spirals Turning

by Tarlan



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-06-04
Updated: 2001-06-04
Packaged: 2017-10-20 03:02:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/208081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Vin never picked up that rifle, and Chris and Vin's eyes never met across that dusty street.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spirals Turning

I thought I'd put all this behind me. I'd cleared my name, making Vin Tanner one I could say aloud once more. Damn stupid of me to think that would be the end of it. They jumped me just outside of town, the single gunshot bringing me down as the bullet creased my temple. I can feel the blood running in a river down the side of my face and I can see the splatters on my coat. I must have been knocked out for a few minutes 'cause when I came too, they were right over me, prodding me with the barrel of a rifle. I groaned out my resentment.

"Well, he ain't dead."

The whiskey-roughened voice croaked out above me and I couldn't help adding another groan as I was dragged to my feet with my arms pinned to my sides. They tied my wrists together real tight, damn near cutting off the circulation completely. My head was spinning, my vision so blurred I could barely make out the features of my ambushers.

"What do you want with me?"

My voice was slurred, like I'd been drinking whiskey all night long.

"Five hundred dollars... dead or alive."

"Ain't worth five hundred. Bounty's been lifted."

"So say them all", he replied as he shoved a copy of that damn bounty poster in front of my nose.

I could hear the laughter-tinged contempt in his voice and I tried to focus on the man. Unshaven with dirty, straw-colored hair hanging in greasy strands around a bewhiskered gray-tinged face. His eyes were bloodshot and my mind supplied me with a picture of this man in the saloon last night. He'd been a real pain in the ass, cavorting with the ladies--though none were interested in the attentions of a drunk--and swilling whiskey straight from the neck of the bottle. They'd been another man with him... much younger and even meaner looking with straight dark hair and glaring eyes. Couldn't recall seeing him drinking much and I couldn't recall him being one for the ladies neither... just recall him sitting there brooding while his riding companion eased off a trail-dust throat with that rot-gut whiskey.

The world went spinning around me once more when they manhandled me back onto my horse, and I slumped forward in the saddle, my cheek lying against the thick mane. One of them yanked me back upright and tied my bound wrists to the front of the saddle.

I heard the older one cussing as he tried to pull his hungover body into the saddle of his horse. I would have laughed at the sight of that damn horse turning away leaving the bastard hopping with one foot in the stirrup and the other on the dusty track, but nothing seemed all that funny right then. Eventually he got himself up--after one hell of a lot more cussing--and I groaned again as we set off. My head was throbbing, and the gait of my horse just made it all the worse for me. It didn't make me feel any better knowing the older of the two was suffering as badly.

"Damn, we got to stop. Gonna puke."

That should have been my line especially 'cause that's exactly how I was feeling, but it was the older one who said it. He slid down from his horse and leaned over. I could hear the sound of him puking up the sour whiskey he'd drunk the night before.

"Shouldn't drink so much then you wouldn't get sick."

That was the other one, but I could hear resignation rather than contempt in his young voice. Reckoned he couldn't be much more'n a kid from the sound of him, and I wondered what such an odd pair were doing riding together.

"You know why I did."

"Yeah... but it didn't work yesterday any more than it did the year before."

Belatedly, I realised that neither of them was paying me much attention. Reckon it must have been that bullet to the head knocked the sense out of me. Still, I realized eventually and kicked down hard on my horse's flank. Clung to the front of the saddle for dear life as my horse leaped forward, going straight to a gallop. Could hear the younger one shouting, "Hey!", in surprise but then I was flying along with my horse. The wind whipped the hat from my head and I leaned as far forward in the saddle as I could. I couldn't hear the pounding of hooves behind me but, suddenly, the younger one was there and reaching over to gather up the rein. Damn, but he was one hell of a good rider. He pulled us both up sharp, nearly throwing me from the saddle.

My bid for freedom was over.

A short while later, the older one rode up; his face impossibly white, like a death mask. He cussed with that soft, whiskey-soaked voice of his and headed up towards a small copse. We came to a stop beneath the biggest of the trees. I looked up into its branches and, to my blurring sight, they took on the strangest appearance of arms stretching up into the clear blue sky with fingers splayed as if in prayer. One thick limb, mottled with moss and coarse bark, reached out right over my head and I felt the breath catch in my throat as a rope was slung over the limb.

"Dead or alive, it said. And you're too much trouble alive."

The noose was slipped over my head.

"Dammit. I ain't wanted no more. I cleared my name."

"What if he's telling the truth?"

"If it's the truth then why did he make a break for it?"

"Ain't lying. Why don't you check with the sheriff in the next town."

Strange how facing death brought my sight back into sharp focus. I looked across at the older man and, for the first time, we made real eye contact. He stared at me, long and hard, like he was reaching right down into my soul. I saw confusion cloud his bloodshot eyes but, suddenly, my horse leaped forward and I was dropping on the end of that short rope. I felt the noose tightened, but the thunder of my blood in my ears was drowned out by a sharp retort--and then I hit the ground. I looked up in a daze of disbelief, seeing the bullet-severed rope lying on the ground close to my feet. I looked back up into the arms of the great tree, where the limb bore the other half of the knotted rope. Green and russet leaves swished in the low breeze like a ripple of soft, mocking laughter.

"You know what, Tanner? I believe you."

I don't know what shocked me more... that he truly did believe me, or that this rough-looking drunk who could barely get on his horse a short while earlier had drawn his gun and spliced that rope before I'd even reached the end of the drop. I looked at him closer, trying to see behind the too-pale, hungover features.

"JD, let's set up camp here. Get some coffee boiling."

He left me sitting there on the ground yanking at the rope collar I was wearing and, soon as I cleared my throat, I called to him.

"There's a small spring head back yonder, just past this tree."

I volunteered the information, knowing how important it was to keep the canteens filled yet wondering why I felt inclined to be so kind to these men. He'd saved my life... but then, the bastard was the one trying to hang me in the first place. I let myself believe I told them about the water just 'cause there was no sense in using the water they carried on coffee when there was fresh close by.

"I'll get it."

The one he'd called JD was filled with boyish enthusiasm. He emptied their canteens into the coffee pot but the other man took them from him.

"No... I'll go. Need to freshen up some."

Before he walked away, he came over and drew a pocket knife, quickly slicing through the rope at my wrists. I hissed as the blood started to flow freely once more, not realizing how numb my fingers had become until now. Have to admit I was confused by his sudden change of heart about me, and how he figured he could trust me so soon after trying to hang me. For all he knew I could slit the kid's throat, jump on my horse and ride like fury--and there'd be nothing he could do about it. He looked me in the face again, those eyes reaching down and grabbing hold of something deep inside me and I could tell by that look that he'd follow me all the way to hell if I so much as harmed a hair on that kid's head. I followed his receding back till he disappeared beyond the edge of the copse then I turned to look at the younger one who was gathering up wood for a fire. The kid looked up, his face reddening in embarrassment at my scrutiny.

"He ain't usually like this. Just caught him at a bad time."

"If you say so, kid."

"I ain't a kid."

I smiled. "Didn't mean to upset you."

The hazel eyes sparkled and I realized that my original impression of him was wrong. Maybe he hadn't been brooding back at the saloon. Maybe it had just been concern for a friend that had given his face that darkened look. I pulled the bandanna from round my neck and wet it with water from my canteen before dabbing at the sluggish blood that was drying rapidly.

"Recall seeing you at the saloon last night. Don't recall you doing much drinking."

"Yeah?" He was wide-eyed with surprise that I could recall him among the many present last night but I'd always been good at remembering faces. "Truth is I don't much like whiskey."

"Unlike your friend."

"Oh, Chris? He don't usually drink that much. Just every now and again when... well... won't say any more than that. His business's his own and he can get pretty upset when people talk about him when he's not around."

I smiled, wondering how I ever managed to mistake this talkative kid with a brooding gunfighter. It made them seem an even stranger pairing.

"So... how did you and Chris hook up? You family?"

They didn't look alike. Chris was tall, lean and blond with those green eyes, and this kid was short with dark hair and eyes, but I'd seen stranger sights in my life.

"Nah... I came out West after my ma died. Got off the stage in this small town in time to see some cowboys try to lynch a man just 'cause he didn't save their boss. This colored fella had said he was a doctor or something but maybe he weren't too good at it. Anyhow, after the hanging I went into the saloon and Chris was in there. Got to talking with him, badgered him some and ended up trailing after him until he let me ride alongside. That was two years back."

I bit into my lower lip as a memory surfaced of a time, two years back, when I'd hired on with an old fella named Watson as a store boy. I'd been running from bounty hunters at the time, and I was out of money, out of supplies and right down on my luck. I recall seeing this colored fella dragged out and taken towards the cemetery by a gang of rowdy cowboys. I figured they was gonna hang him but Ol' Watson told me not to get involved. Figured Watson was right... at the time. After all, I couldn't clear my name if I was dead. So I didn't get involved. Instead, I stayed on another week then headed back to Tascosa where I found Eli Joe and got him to confess to the killing of Jess Kincaid. Saw the bastard hang but never had the heart to take up bounty hunting again. Still, over the years, I've kind of regretted not picking up that old rifle of Watson's and doing what I could to save that man from a hanging.

Kind of strange how that past had caught up with me again. Makes me wonder what might have been if I'd put down that broom and taken up that rifle. I changed the subject, not wanting to dwell on things I couldn't change.

"How long you been bounty hunting?"

I noticed a flush of embarrassment rise in the kid's face.

"First time we've tried. I found all these bounty posters in the last town and figured it might be a way to make some money seeing's how neither Chris nor me are cowboys. He won't go near a cow... and I sure don't want to be around them either. I like horses though. I figured we could get some money together and start up a horse ranch. Chris used to have horses before his family were murdered."

I turned my face to the fire so JD wouldn't notice the grin I was sporting.

"What? What did I say?"

He was watching me, all confused and I realised he'd seen that grin.

"Thought you weren't supposed to tell me his business."

JD's lips tightened and, like a kicked puppy, he slunk off to get supplies from the saddlebags on his horse, making me feel kind of guilty. He returned moments later and I could see no trace of a grudge. Instead, he was humming softly some lullaby that I reckon his ma used to sing to him.

"You said he don't drink much usually. Why was he yesterday?"

JD stared at me for a moment, as if weighing up whether he ought to answer. He glanced off towards the spring head where Chris had disappeared some time ago.

"Yesterday was five years to the day since he got home to find his ranch burned to the ground... and his wife and son with it."

"Injuns?"

JD shook his head to say no, and I could see a sadness filling his eyes even though he couldn't have known that wife and child.

"Five years... and he's still looking for the men who did it."

I nodded and sipped at the hot brew.

"You like him."

JD looked up, his eyes full of pride and affection.

"Chris's been like a brother to me. Even looked after me when I took sick a month back."

"Don't seem the kind of man to shoot a man in cold blood."

I fingered the gash along the side of my head, glad that it had stopped bleeding, and noticed JD fidgeting. His color heightened until the blush crept down his cheeks to below the neckline of his shirt.

"That weren't Chris. Only meant to kick up some dust in front of your horse. Didn't mean to hit you. Guess I'm not much of a sharpshooter."

I grinned at the embarrassed and contrite puppy-dog look on the kid's face and knew it was the truth.

"Still would have hanged me."

"Nah... he was just pulling you in line. Figured you'd come quietly if he showed you the alternative."

Strangely enough, I believed that too. There was just something about the man that called to me the moment I looked into those green eyes; something that told me this was a man I could have trusted to ride with even when I had that bounty hanging over my head.

I looked up at the sound of someone approaching, and hoped the surprise didn't register on my face. Damn, but if he hadn't cleaned up real good. I hadn't noticed him taking a shaving kit with him, but it explained why he'd taken so long. His face was clean-shaved and his hair gleamed like spun gold. I noticed the rest too; the figure-hugging black pants that were molded to his lean but well-made ass and legs; the narrow hips leading up to surprisingly broad shoulders. I could see his hands; long fingers that were no longer shaky from too much whiskey... but when he turned a cool gaze over me, I could see those green eyes were still dulled by the hangover. Still, they were a nice green, a natural green like the leaves on the tree above our heads; a soft green tinged with gold.

I lit the fire using some dry kindling from the tree I nearly hanged from, and hung a pot of coffee over it while JD unsaddled all three horses. While we waited for the coffee, I eyed the other man and noticed him watching me as closely though I couldn't see more than intrigue in those leaf-green eyes. What was he thinking? Part of me wanted to believe that he was thinking the same thoughts as me, that he was looking at me with an appraising eye. I knew I looked pretty good. I'd had plenty a man and woman trying to bed me in the past though most of the men tried to treat me like I was some weak woman all 'cause of my sky-blue eyes and my long, curly hair. They were none too pleased when I turned the tables and fucked them instead. I wondered if he'd be the same and then I recalled him cavorting with them saloon girls last night.

I shook my head gently, not wanting to cause myself needless pain. My head felt like it wanted to fall off as it was.

The fire crackled, the heat blackening the bottom of that coffeepot and sending the strong smell of freshly brewed coffee into the air. Damn but it smelled real good... and tasted good too. Strong... just as I liked it. I watched Chris sipping at his mug of coffee but even the strong brew weren't enough to keep his eyelids from drooping. The slight breeze sang its own lullaby as it rustled the leaves over our head and, finally, I saw them eyes close as he drifted off into sleep. JD pushed up from the fire and walked over to the horses, talking and rubbing at their coats, giving them fresh water, and I could see he meant it when he said he liked horses. They liked him too. Even my black took a shine to him right away. As JD weren't too bothered with me, I turned my sights back to the man sleeping close by.

Damn, but he looked real handsome without the lines of hangover pain creasing his face. Till now I hadn't noticed how long his eyelashes were 'cause they were so fair, and his blond hair hung over his forehead giving him a boyishness that was missing earlier. His mouth was perfect. Them lips just the shape I liked... plump on the bottom and curved just right for kissing and for... I held that thought, figuring the last thing I needed right now was to have my pants feeling tight.

Too late.

I could feel my body reacting to the sight of him sleeping there with his back propped against the tough bark of that tree. The tip of his tongue sneaked out, wetting those plump dry lips, and his long fingers twitched once... twice... before falling still again. I had these imaginings, wondering what those fingers would feel like touching me, picturing those firm lips round my cock, and that pink tongue tip lapping at my juices.

I wriggled as my pants became unbearably tight, though grateful I weren't wearing anything as tight as them dark pants painted onto his lean body. Damn... why did I have to think about them long legs and that firm ass?

I pushed to my feet, needing to get away from the sight of him so I could deal with my problem.

"Going somewhere?"

I looked back down and there he was, staring up at me through narrowed eyes.

"Getting hungry. Figured I'd rustle us up something to eat."

Those eyes dropped to my pants and I felt a moment of concern in case he took offense to me being all hard and wanting when the only temptations around here were him and the kid.

"Getting a little hungry myself. What say we deal with the hunger together?"

I looked at him askance, wondering if he was offering what I thought he was offering.

"JD? Why don't you take the horses down to the spring, give them a proper watering and brush down."

"Sure, Chris."

I was amazed at how excited JD was at the thought of taking care of them horses, and he barely spared us a glance as he led all three of them away. Soon as he was out of sight, Chris started undoing his gun belt and pants, his eyes never leaving mine as he pulled his shaft out and stroked it until it was hard and glistening with want. He was grinning up at me and then I realized I was grinning too. I opened my pants and took my shaft in hand, my fingers sliding along the length and teasing the tip the way I liked.

"How do you want this, cowboy?"

"First of all, I ain't a cowboy... and second... JD ain't going to be occupied with them horses forever no matter how much he likes being with them."

"Hard and fast then."

He grinned at me again and his whole face seemed to shine. Even the dull luster of his hungover eyes disappeared for a moment as they sparkled like new leaves glistening in the early morning dew. Damn but he was more'n just handsome when he smiled like that. He was goddamn beautiful with his face speckled in sunlight filtering through the canopy of leaves over his head, and his hair shining like the purest gold I ever saw. I knew what I wanted there and then. I wanted to see the rest of him naked with his pale flesh painted by dappled sunlight. I sank to my knees, straddling his lower legs and reached down, grasping the waist band of them black pants and urging him to raise his ass so I could tug them down them long, muscular legs. I pulled off his boots and those pants, and then I sat back to stare at the sight before me.

I was right.

He was beautiful, a living canvas for nature to paint in sunlight and shade. I leaned over him, my tongue lapping at the glistening dewdrop poised on the tip of his shaft. He moaned softly, hips rising, encouraging me to do more'n just lap at him. Knew there weren't time for any real fancy stuff so I let him push my head down into his lap, opening my mouth to take him as deep inside as I could. He tasted good. He smelled good too with his clean scent filling my nostrils as I breathed in deeply. I could feel his hands in my hair, fists clenching round the strands then releasing as I worked him. My hand was squeezing his balls and I could feel them tightening, drawing up as he came close to the edge.

I pulled back, hearing him choke in disbelief and despair.

"Not yet, Cowboy."

I ignored the half-hearted attempt he made to glare at me for calling him a cowboy again. Instead, I reached over and drew a tin from my saddlebag that JD had dropped close by, popping open the lid so I could dig out some of the grease inside. I looked back down at him, expecting him to start making a fuss once he realised I intended to be the one doing the taking. Instead he grinned and spread his legs wider, pulling his knees back at the same time.

I froze, partly in shock. It was the first time any man had offered himself willingly. Usually I kinda took them by surprise but left them too satisfied to complain about it. Chris, though, he wanted it... wanted me. I slicked his hole with grease, my fingers thrusting deep inside him, taking as long as I dared to make sure he wouldn't hurt none, then I got myself ready.

Despite my care, he was so tight but then the muscle gave and I sank inside. I heard him gasp, and then his legs were wrapped around me, holding me in. Damn but he was so tight and hot and so goddamn beautiful. His head was thrown back, lips parted, face flushed with colour and all the while, the leaves swished above us painting him in ever-changing patterns of copper and gold.

His head thrashed from side to side as I thrust deep inside him, and I could feel my own innards melting as that familiar warmth flooded from my belly and thighs, igniting every part of me. My hand was working him at the same time, and I felt him tighten, bearing down so hard around me that I gasped out as I found my pleasure inside of him.

I collapsed on top of him, the power of the feelings that swept over me taking me by surprise, and it took a moment or two before I could regain my senses. He made no move to push me off, almost like he welcomed my weight on top of him. I might look slight compared to some but I'm solidly built underneath all these clothes. Anyhow, eventually I had to draw away but I never felt so sad as I did when I left the tight sheath of his body. I wanted to stay inside of him, to keep my arms around him and my body pressed tight against his. I reckon he wanted it too 'cause he sighed softly in loss when I pulled out.

In all the time I've coupled with men I never once felt the urge to linger, tending to pull up my pants and walk away but, with him, I wanted to touch him again. I wanted to bathe his sweating flesh and wash away the evidence of our shared pleasure. He lay back and he let me do it, unmoving as I wet my bandanna and used it to clean him. All the while, those pleasure-darkened leaf-green eyes were focused on my face as if I weren't just some stranger who'd dropped his pants and fucked him raw. He grasped my hand to stop me and I felt the loss anew as I watched him gather up his clothing and dress in silence. I set my own clothing to rights and sat down by the fire, but when I looked at him, the emptiness went away as he reached right into my soul again, forging a bond that ain't ever been broken to this day.

JD came back with the horses, unaware of what me and Chris had done, oblivious to the meaningful looks that passed between us...

****

That was two years ago and I ain't never looked back since. Three of us became four then five and then six as we picked up three more strays on the road.

Buck Wilmington is an old friend of Chris's from when he'd been a family man; a friend who tried and failed to help him over his grieving when his wife and child were burned alive. Still, he started riding with us when we found him in some backwater town running from an angry husband and, surprisingly enough, him and JD hit it off from the start becoming even closer than either had been with Chris--which is saying something. They share a bond that's different to the one I share with Chris but no less powerful, though they ain't inclined to bed each other, both them preferring the ladies whenever we hit a town. Buck weren't so friendly to me at first. Maybe he resented the easy friendship I had with his oldest friend, or maybe he just didn't like the way me and Chris bedded down together each night 'cause we made a pact not to hide what we did from JD--or anyone else wanting to ride with us. Still, he mellowed quick enough and now we're pretty close.

JD never minded about me and Chris from the outset. Still amazes me that the kid could be so innocent yet so worldly-wise all at the same time. I don't reckon there's a mean bone in JD's body. He treats Chris, me and Buck like we're big brothers and that's just fine by me 'cause I feel like I found myself a family with these men.

Josiah Sanchez is a grizzly bear of a man filled with his own demons, and like a grizzly bear he could be gentle and he could be fiercely raging especially if anyone tries to hurt his friends. We sometimes call him _Preacher_ on account of him being one to speak in riddles. He was being tormented by demons of the human kind when we came across him at some old church ruins. He told us he weren't bothered none by them, that they were his penance for something he ain't ever told us about but Chris has always been the kind to face demons head-on. We sent them human vermin running pretty quick and left Josiah to rebuilding his ruins... but less than an hour after leaving we realised we'd gained another partner on the road. I like Josiah 'cause, despite him once being a priest, he ain't never judged any of us--not even me and Chris for what we do together.

Ezra Standish is still a puzzle. He's an educated man, knowing all sorts of fancy words and wearing fancy clothes with frills and pearl buttons yet I can sense he's been a lonely man for all his airs and graces. He carries a few burn marks, nothing so's you would notice till you came real close, and mostly on his back and chest. He's a lucky man that we came riding into that Texas border town that day else them scars might have been far worse--or he'd be dead. Hot tar and feathers. Josiah told me the English used to tip cauldrons of hot tar over the castle walls onto the enemy beneath. Makes me shudder to think about it. Josiah tended to them burns as best he could, and then we all helped Ezra through the fever that came along soon after. Don't know whether Ezra stayed with us out of gratitude at first or whether, just like the rest of us, he needed some friendly faces to wake up to each day, but he's ridden the trail with us for almost eight months now. He uses them fancy words like a shield but I reckon we've all got beneath that armor judging by the way he no longer takes all our money whenever we play a hand or two of poker.

Can't make Ezra out, though. Moans when we camp out under the trees 'cause of the midges that bite, and gripes when we set up in the desert 'cause the sand gets into everything. Well, maybe I can understand the last one... damn sand does get into everything making it less than pleasant when you want to do some loving. Learned real fast to take it slow and easy--and to use my buckskin coat beneath us--else that sand chafes in places a man don't wanna think about.

Caught myself grinning as I thought of that first time out in the desert, before we learned some sense. Me and Chris crawled into our joined bedrolls and pretty soon we was doing what came so natural now. We rarely fight over who gets to be took, and that time was no different except it was me on the bottom. One hell of a ride as always, and some part of me heard Josiah calling, "Oh Lord, they're at it again," while Buck belly-laughed at the noise we must've been making. Reckon the Lord must've been listening to Josiah 'cause HE taught us a lesson that night. Spent the following day wishing we'd not been so eager the night before 'cause we couldn't spare the water to wash off the sand that had worked its way into some goddamn awful places.

Two years, almost to the day, and we were back under that same tree with its strong coarsely-barked limb stretching out over our head. This time there were six of us camping beneath the shade of that great black oak. Its leaves spread out over us like a thick canvas tent, shading us from the hot sun during the day, and then from the worst of the wind and rain when the storm hit round sunset. I looked up, and that damn rope was still hanging there as a reminder of what could have been.

Chris sat down beside me and took out a cheroot. He drew deep on it before passing it to me, and that's how we spent a lot of time when we weren't riding the horses--or each other. Just sitting there side by side talking softly, sharing a cheroot, whiskey, and coffee either set apart or around the fire with the others. Then we'd bed down for the night and I'd let his soft breathing lull me to sleep.

That first day I met Chris I thought I'd come full circle but Josiah reckons life's more like a spiral going round and round till it ends. I reckon he's right 'cause a few days later we came back to that small town where Chris and JD first hooked up--to the town where I'd worked as a store boy for Ol' Watson. Weirdest thing, it's the same town close to where we found Josiah in those ruins doing his penance, and both Buck and Ezra recalled being there that same day they took out that colored fella and hanged him. Makes me wonder what might have happened if we'd all met then instead of years later out on the trail. We were gonna bypass the town and head on to Eagle Bend when the damnedest thing happened.

Chris hurt his arm falling from his damn horse after it took a fright on seeing a rattler. Felt my heart leap into my throat when his horse reared so sudden, whites showing as it rolled its eyes right back in fright. Chris is a good rider, done a little bronco busting in his time but he weren't ready and he fell awkward. Figured I heard the snap of bone as he hit the rocky ground. Was Ezra that reacted fastest, that little derringer he keeps up his sleeve snapping into his hand and sending a bullet right through that damn rattler as it reared up to strike at Chris. Took the damn thing's head clean off.

I leaped from my horse and was by Chris's side in seconds. The fall had knocked the wind out of him too, and I made him stay real still while Josiah took a look at his arm--not that he was up to arguing with me right then. It was definitely broke but I couldn't help being grateful it was the left rather than the right arm. Josiah splintered the arm as best he could but we'd heard there was a healer round these parts so we headed back to the town to see if anyone knew where to find him.

I spent the ride by Chris's side, talking nonsense to keep him focused on riding. His face was a sheet, and as pale as it had been that day I first saw him. JD, Buck and Ezra rode ahead to find out the healer's whereabouts, just in case it turned out he was in the opposite direction to where we were currently headed. Didn't wanna waste time on a wild goose chase.

JD came riding back hard, said we was in luck 'cause the healer lived in the town.

The town looked liked many a place we'd ridden through over the years, but I could remember it having been far livelier last time I was here. It's almost a ghost town now with all them store fronts boarded up. The Newspaper office, which I recall that pretty widow running, is long abandoned with thick cobwebs hanging over the broken down press. Weren't too bothered about newspapers last time around 'cause I couldn't read worth a damn anyway but Chris, Josiah and even Ez have been learning me my words. Watson's store is gone, so is Potter's, and the livery where I kept my horse has been razed to the ground. The church looks even more of a ruin than I recall but the saloon's still there though there weren't more than a handful of men drinking in it--and they were a sorry looking bunch.

We found the healer working from a room at the back of the saloon.

I recognized him right away and figured I was seeing a ghost. It was the colored fella they hanged that day and I didn't know whether to feel relief or guilt that he weren't dead after all. I could see the burn marks round his neck from where he'd twisted on the end of that rope, and his voice was soft and gravelly from a partially crushed windpipe. Can't figure out how he survived the hanging, and I sure don't recall anyone mentioning it after the event so I always figured he'd died that day. He was so damn gentle when he tended to Chris, sure and confident as he set the bone straight and bound up the arm tight. Forced Chris to drink some mixture of herbs that must have tasted even worse than it smelled judging by the way Chris wrinkled up his nose, grimaced and cussed loudly.

We took three rooms in the saloon--courtesy of Ezra who decided he didn't want to spend another night on the hard-packed ground--and I spent the night lying next to my injured lover on a lumpy bed that had seen better times. The Laudanum helped Chris to sleep, leaving me alone with my dark thoughts of what could've been if I'd taken up that rifle all them years back.

I slipped from the room and found Jackson... and I made my confession to him knowing I couldn't expect forgiveness for not helping him that day. His lack of bitterness humbled me. In fact he told me off for spending all these years regretting something that probably would have put me in my grave had I tried to stop them cowboys alone. Didn't make me feel a whole lot better, but I stopped a while and listened while he told me how he'd managed to survive the hanging. Seems them cowboys rode off in triumph the moment he stopped twisting on the end of that rope, and some passing Seminole Injuns cut him down. He was in bad shape but alive, and he went and lived with them for a year before losing his wife in childbirth.

I couldn't recall things being that good in the town when I was there working for Watson but he told me that when he got back things were even worse. A big rancher named James had slowly forced out the townsfolk till he owned it all, and there weren't nobody who would come forward to say who shot and killed the Judge who tried to bring some order to the town so the army couldn't do a thing. Ms. Travis accompanied the Judge's body home to his kin--and she never came back. Watson died more'n a year back, gunned down for refusing to sell his store to James for far less than its worth, just like Potter before him, and they burned out the livery when Tiny refused to sell up.

I asked Jackson why he came back here--and why he stayed... no place left to go was his answer.

I returned to the small room I shared with Chris, my heart feeling heavier than it had in many a year as I wondered if I could have made a difference if I'd stayed--if I'd picked up that rifle. So many what-ifs raced round my head. What if Chris had come out of that saloon that day and caught my eye? Would that have made a difference? Would the feeling that sparked between us on that first time we looked in each other's eye have bonded us to make a stand for Jackson? I could feel all the regrets churning around inside and wondered why Josiah weren't stark staring mad for having these kind of thoughts all the time.

Then I looked at Chris's sleeping face, seeing the lines of pain smoothed away by the drug he'd been given. Damn, but he was beautiful and not even the harsh years ahead of us would change that, no matter how craggy and old we both got. He'd always be beautiful to me. He'll always be the center of my world just like I know I'm the center of his. It was a good feeling and I realized that I'd made my decision not to pick up that rifle that day and, for good or bad, it had brought me to this place in my life--and I was happy with what I had.

We rode on a week later and, for whatever reason, Nathan Jackson decided there was some place left for him 'cause he rode on with us.

****

I sank down at the base of a gnarled tree, looking up through the dead branches at a clear night sky. The moon wouldn't rise for a few more hours so there was nothing but the campfire to add light to the darkness. The night sky was blacker than soot but sprinkled with bright pinpoints of stars with some so close together they looked like milk flowing across the sky. I knew many of these stars, used them to guide me.

Chris was asleep next to me, his blond hair shimmering gold and orange in the light cast out by the flames. Nathan dropped down on the other side of him and gently touched the fingers sticking out of the cast he'd made for that arm, just to check they were warm with blood circulating to the tips. Chris didn't even murmur, so safe and deeply did he sleep knowing we was all here watching over him. I brushed away a lock of hair that had fallen across his face then leaned over to plant a kiss on the corner of his mouth, smiling when those lips curved upwards in his sleep. Nathan didn't bat an eyelid, just reached out and placed a warm, comforting hand on my shoulder before joining Ezra by the fire.

I looked at the men surrounding us, hearing the low conversation and soft laughter as they shared a meal and coffee. I let my fingers softly caress my lover's cheek, hearing him sigh in the contentment we both shared. Maybe things would have been different had I picked up that rifle and gone to help Nathan. It didn't matter though 'cause I doubt it could ever be better'n what I got now.

We had become Seven--and that sounded like a good number to me.

THE END


End file.
